


Ride

by damnitsaerin



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Additional Missions, Deviates From Canon, Eventual Smut, F/M, Medium Burn, Multi, Multiple Partners, Multiple Relationships, Polyamory, Polygamy, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slow burn but we're already on the juicy bits lol, Smut, Some Canon Missions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 07:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20042041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnitsaerin/pseuds/damnitsaerin
Summary: Life is a freedom song of struggle. It's about finding one's purpose, learning how to overcome fear and to stand up for causes bigger than one's self.





	1. Prologue

By 1899 the age of outlaws and gunslingers was at an end. America was becoming a land of laws.

Even the West had mostly been tamed.

But not you.

You weren't willing to give up the fight for the country you loved, for the country you grew up in. Nobody would take your freedom away.

Not ever.


	2. God Bless America

1899

You were somewhat of a wild card; panning in between unpredictable and reckless. Living the life as an outlaw had been all you'd ever known, robbing and killing in the name of survival and freedom - two sentiments which meant absolutely everything to you. In this world is had always been kill or be killed. The life you'd lived was not for the faint of hearted and having been alone from a young age had taught you a thing or two about looking after yourself. You relied on one person and one person only and that was you.

"Shut the _fuck_ upand empty out your pockets before I put a bullet in your goddamn brain!" You gripped your revolver tightly in your sweaty hand, watching yourself press it up against a rich man's temple. You growled on the top of your lungs. Robbing wasn't something you felt remorseful for. You'd been doing this for long enough and it honestly just felt like second nature by now. You weren't doing anything wrong. You were just trying to survive, same as everybody else.

You hated conforming to society, finding the idea of having a simple steady job appalling. This life you lived now had been better, more suited to your personality. "I don't wanna have to kill you but I _absolutely won't_ think _twice_ if you try to make a move. Now empty them pockets so I don't have to ask again!" Shakily, the man took out what he had from his pockets. A gold watch, four money clips (around $90 altogether) and a silver wedding ring from his left hand.

For a moment you thought about it. You didn't need the ring. It wasn't necessary. "Keep your ring." You released the back of his collar. The support you'd given him by holding him up was now gone and he fell to the dirt with a thud and a _oomph_. The ring he'd been holding onto fell into the mud underneath him and he scrambled for it as quick as he could. You kept your gun pointing at him, finger steadily on the trigger just in case things took a turn for the worst. He flipped himself around to face you. "I'm gonna let you go now," you said. "I expect you to never speak of this little 'encounter' we just had. Not to no one."

He nodded his head eagerly. You sheathed your revolver and flicked your chin up towards him. "Go on then. Get going." The man took a moment to hesitate and watch you in a mixture of awe and terror. You grew impatient. "What do I fuckin' look like? A circus freak? Get outta here! Go!" Quickly he scrambled to his feet, tripping over himself in the process. Idly you watched him jostle himself towards the tree line for safety. A scoff erupted from the back of your throat.

It wasn't often you spared something like a ring. But you knew that some things weren't worth taking, especially when sentimental attachments had been made. Part of you felt like you should have but you knew at the end of the day you'd end up feeling bad about it. You couldn't deny the fact you understood the value some objects had and, even though you were a ruthless outlaw, you had some morals.

You wouldn't label yourself evil, but you wouldn't have labeled yourself good either. You were more on a neutral stance in life and never took a fixed side. You were just trying to get by in life, whether that meant robbing and murdering folk then so be it. This was the land of the free.

You turned your back for a moment, once again scanning the area. If you hadn't known any better you'd have thought this had been some sort of set up, but that was just your paranoia talking. That was one of your main flaws. You tended to overthink things way too much, especially in these kind of situations. You'd learnt to evade the law over the twelve years of being on the run, finding each and every way to wiggle your way out of situations.

It had been easier back when you were eleven. Stealing hadn't been as hard because you'd just been a child - innocent and pure. Or so everyone thought. You'd gain the sympathy of those arrogant fools throughout Saint Denis and once the time was right you'd rob them blind. You often thought back to those times fondly. It was harder now at twenty two.

Kodak, your horse, stood lazily to one side of the pathway just at the foot of the hill. You trained your eyes on him and soon trod on to mount up.

The sun had just been peeking its eyes over the horizon in a warm greeting of heat upon your skin. A new day had just begun. You breathed in the crisp air of the mildly chilly morning and turned yourself around to head towards Rhodes. Kodak broke out into a canter, the scenic imagery of the rolling fields and woodland hills obscured by speed.

Rhodes came into view soon. Although many people thought the town had what the locals called 'bad joojoo', you found the little amount of people pleasant, the atmosphere almost welcoming. You'd made your home in a caravan just off the side of town, a quaint little place. Warm and cozy. This had been the first of many places you'd lived that wasn't uncomfortable and wasn't outdoors or in a tent.

"Good to see you again." You heard an elderly woman call out your name from afar, greeting you with vigor a woman of her age shouldn't have.

"Ms. Roark! A pleasure." You tipped your hat towards her, beaming down in her direction. The town had just begun to blossom now that the sun had begun to sew its seeds over the land and warm many of the townsfolk. Shops were opening, men were on their way to work, woman congregating in the streets for banter. Of course Rhodes had it's fair share of issues, though. That being Sheriff Grey and his band of misfit, no good deputies.

You hated the Grey's just as much as you loathed the Braithwaites, but not as much as they hated each other. Their feud was age old. You'd only been in Rhodes for a month or so - longer than most of the places you'd lived in - and already you couldn't stand either of the families.

You stopped off at the general store, taking a moment. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed a few characters coming into town on horseback.

It wasn't a rare sight to find yourself face to face with a gang, whether it be O'Driscoll's, Lemoyne Raiders or the Murfee Brood. But these men were new to this part of the the state. You didn't recognize their faces and they seemed to be a relatively small group. Four men, all riding battle worn horses, scarred and unfazed by nothing. Granted, you didn't know if they were a gang. You, typically, just assumed as much. They didn't really look the part either, but what other word was there to describe these men? They were new to these parts, or so you thought, so you had every right to start assuming things.

You heard one of the men chirp. He was dressed smartly, wearing a black and red vest with intricate swirly designs covering it with an accompanying loose fitting blue and white pinstripe shirt underneath. His dark hair was slicked back neatly, ending in curls towards the end. "Alright, men, make good impressions. Remember, _no weapons._ We don't want any trouble with the law while we're in Rhodes, you hear?" It was unusual to hear something like that come out of someone who looked like trouble was their middle name.

A lot of the time, much like a lot of the gangs around, they'd be inbred hillbillies with no sense of morality or a speck of good will in their heart. They killed needlessly. Granted, you weren't the nicest person on earth but you at least didn't kill for sport. You had some sort of rationality that all lives were precious - even though yours was more so. You deserved to live too and if that meant someone had to die for you to live then that's the way it had to be.

You studied the group momentarily until one of the men caught your eye. He had stubble covering along his jaw, just giving off a five o'clock shadow and giving him a rather rough, yet fair, appearance. His hair was golden brown and had the most perfect sheen to it when the light caught him at just the right angle.

"Arthur, I need you to take a look around the place for me." The first man spoke up once more, addressing the man you had just been musing at. "Go have a look in the general store, see what you can bargain for. Pearson's been nagging. Meet me back at the sheriffs office when you're done." He continued to bark orders back and forth between each other member of the group before disappearing into the sheriffs office. The man, who had now been deemed Arthur, strode away from the rest of the group in your direction.

You'd been lounging about outside the general store for a solid six minutes now, watching and observing. Thoughtfully you began to memorize Arthur's features as he got closer. His skin was tanned, probably from spending a lot of time in the blistering heat of day; it screamed of running from lawmen. You would personally know what that looked like. His shoulders were burly, arms thick. He had gotten closer now, meeting your gaze with an intense blue hued stare. His eyes surly were something. You gave him an absent minded greeting and he returned an even more inattentive "ma'am" in response.

Arthur stepped inside the store, paying no more than a moments attention to you. He'd spent a little while in the building and you could hear him talking to the owner of the store about this and that. Finally the door to the store swung open and he stepped outside onto the porch.

"Arthur, huh?" You craned your neck up to look up at his face. He hadn't even looked back at you before answering your jeer. "What's it to you?" He replied. Soon he began to fiddle with his satchel and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. Arthur took a slow drag from it before releasing the smoke from his lungs. Like a gentleman he offered one to you.

You thanked him, eagerly seizing the offer and lighting up your own cigarette. "You're new around these parts," you said. Arthur gave you a soft grunt of affirmation. "So, why're you here?" 

"Could ask the same of you." Your gazes connected at last. "You don't look like the kind of lady who'd stick around here. Who are you?"

You inhaled the smoke from your cigarette. "Nobody of interest. Just tryna get on with life, y'know?" Your reply was short and to the point.

Arthur cleared his throat. "You look kind of like a bounty hunter if you don't mind me makin' an observation," he said. "I wouldn't think such a pretty thing like you would be carrying around that amount of firearms if it weren't for no discernible reason." Arthur was leaning on the support column of the porch now, eyeing you up like he was thirsty. You couldn't tell if you were supposed to be nervous or flattered.

"Anything but, my friend. But I can be whatever you want me t' be." A charming grin floated across your lips, catching him almost off guard. You idly lifted yourself up from the chair and slowly made your way down the stairs. Arthur shook his head, blinking. "It was nice meeting you, uh?"

You thought for a moment and introduced yourself with a pseudonym. "Annabel Love. You can call me Annabel Love."

"I guess I have no need to introduce myself, seeing as you got yourself some keen ears already." He tipped his hat towards you, a lazy smile gracing his features. "But for your sake, Ms. Love, I hope we never cross paths again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the first chapter. It's not really up to par, but I'll make changes over the months eventually to make the story better. I'm very rusty, as I haven't written publicly in over 3 years and I've had hectic writers block for years now. I hope you enjoy!


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